


By the Light of the Moon

by the_girl_king



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 08:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17742773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_girl_king/pseuds/the_girl_king
Summary: John finds his opportunity with you when you and Arthur take a break.He knew it was wrong, but staring down at your naked body how could he say no. He was never a good man, why pretend to start now.





	By the Light of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> John knew it was wrong, but staring down at your naked body how could he say no. He was never a good man, why pretend to start now.

The gleam of the waxing moon illuminated your ministrations as you combed through your hair, waist deep in Flat Iron Lake. It was summer in Clemens Point and the heat of the day had left you sticky and in need of a refreshing bath. By now most of the gang had drifted off to sleep, settling into a drunken slumber after their earlier antics. The fire had been roaring, the whole camp gathered around it, drinking and singing and drinking some more. You could still make out the tendrils of the campfire now as it dwindled. 

You heard someone approaching and quickly dipped further down into the water to hide your naked body. You relaxed a little once you realized it was only John, emerging from the woods in his union suit. 

“Guess I’m not the only one who wanted a midnight bath,” you called to him, nodding to the towel and soap he held.

“Didn’t think anyone else would be out here so late,” he yelled back, “I can come back in the morning.” 

You rolled your eyes at that, “John Marston, this lake is big enough for the two of us. “Besides, the rest of the camp doesn’t  _ want _ you to wait until morning to bathe.” 

He paused for a moment, then let out a wheezy laugh, “Alright, but  _ no peeking _ .” He motioned for you to turn around and you obeyed, giggling at his ridiculousness. 

He stripped of his union suit and waded out to where you stood, taking a moment to observe the curve of your back where it met dark water. You could smell the alcohol that still clung to him, whiskey soaking into his cells and cigarette smoke woven in his hair. You turned to face him and could see the whiskey still holding on to him in his eyes, in the way his eyes lingered on your lips as you spoke. 

Your hair was dripping with the lake water, rivulets traveling over your shoulders and down your arms already peppered with goose flesh. You drew in a long breath and the rise and fall of your breasts was visible in the soft moonlight, your nipples hardened from the summer breeze. Your cheeks tinged red and you weren’t sure if it was from the chill of the water or the way John was looking at you. 

Your lips formed into a soft oh as you waited for his response. You had asked him something. He had been intent on answering, but now lost in the softness of those lips and the swell of your breasts he quite forget what he had meant to say. 

“Sorry?” he managed to get out instead, hating himself for how hard it was to drag his eyes away from your exposed skin. His eyes met yours, and you didn’t miss the way they were darker now than they had been a moment ago. A thrill went through you and you could have cursed at your traitorous body. 

You tried to shake it from your mind, “I asked if you wanted to wade deeper into the water?” 

He looked down to the lake water, level with his hips.

“I know you don’t like deep water,” you offered, “but it’s  kinda hard to wash your hair so shallow.” 

All feelings of hesitance left when he felt your small hand reach for his beneath the water and softly tug him toward deeper water. 

Holding his ground he pulled you toward him instead, smirking at the surprised breath that graced past your lips. And in the next moment he was leaning down to press a kiss against those very same lips. Another surprised gasp left you and he swallowed it down, hungrily deepening the kiss, a hand coming up to snake around the back of your head and another reaching down to pull your waist against his. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, heat flickering down your body as his tongue parted your lips and entered your mouth. You kissed him back, pressed against his body, and smiled into the kiss as you felt him begin to harden against your thigh. 

Twigs snapped toward the edge of the forest. You stepped back a few feet from John’s embrace and glanced in the direction of the noise. Standing among the thinning of the trees stood Arthur Morgan, witnessing his best friend and  _ you _ naked in the lake and kissing. 

Catching your eyes Arthur let out a strangled sound, and then, dropping the bundle of wood he had been carrying back to camp, locked eyes with John. “‘M gonna kill you,” he choked out and stormed toward the lake’s edge.

“Arthur, wait!” you shouted. You attempted to wade closer to John, to maybe block him from the incoming collision that was a very angry Arthur Morgan. You yelped as he shouldered past you and with a lunge grabbed John round the shoulders and submerged him in the water. There was a chorus of splashing as John struggled in vain to gain the upper hand. 

A frightened holler leapt from your throat and you frantically grabbed at Arthur’s arm in an attempt to pull him off John. “Arthur!” you shouted as he shrugged you off, “Stop it!”

You grabbed at his arm again and pulled with all your might, but no man or woman had ever been able to compete with Arthur when he went into a rage. John’s thrashing was still frantic, the air leaving his body in large bubbles, his arms slapping wildly at Arthur. 

“You’re going to kill him!” You screamed. 

Your voice broke on the last word and Arthur paused for a moment to turn to you, letting John up for a moment. John gasped as the air burned its way into his lungs, tears gathering in his eyes as he struggled to regain his composure. He coughed, and the sound was wet and desperate. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” you exclaimed, reaching for John. He clung to you as his chest heaved and he breathed ragged. “What the  _ fuck _ is wrong with you?”

Arthur’s eyes met yours, red, angry, and suddenly afraid of his own actions.  “I-” he started, interrupted by a fit of John’s coughing. 

“Get the  _ fuck _ out of here,” you said. And you meant it. He could hear how much you meant it, the venom in your voice directed at  _ him _ for the first time since he had known you. He’d heard it before, usually directed like a dagger at Micah, occasionally thrown at an O’Driscoll, more than once at a lawman who threatened to hang him. 

That wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst was the look in your eyes as you said it. Angry, protective, and frightened. Finally, you looked at him the way he knew he deserved, and it weighed so heavy on his shoulders he could feel it press on his heart. 

“I-” he started again, then stopped. “‘M sorry,” he whispered roughly before turning and leaving. 

You stared at his back as he emerged from the water, his clothes soaking wet. He trudged past the discarded bundle of wood, and away from camp. 

John’s increasing weight at your side drew your attention back to him and you helped him wade back to shore, setting him down gently against one of the large rocks that jutted against the shoreline. 

His chest still rose roughly but his breathing began to quiet once you draped him in his towel. He pulled it close to his chest and let it envelope his shivering body. Suddenly aware of your own nakedness you followed suit and slid down next to him. 

“Are you okay?” A stupid question, but asked anyway. 

He nodded roughly, “I told you I don’t like swimming.” 

You coughed out a laugh at that. Nearly drowned and still sarcastic as hell. Arthur would have to try a whole lot harder to pry that away from John. 

“I’m sorry.” It should have been you saying it, but it was offered from John’s lips instead. As if he could sense your confusion he continued, “I don’t want to mess things up between you and him.” 

“Things were already messed up,” you confessed.  _ Otherwise I wouldn’t have been kissing you in the lake _ , you held back. “I don’t know that we were coming back from where we were anyway.”

John glanced at you, moonlight cascading over you and bathing you in a soft white glow, and he wondered if he would ever come back from where he was either. 


End file.
